


Threat eliminated

by saltiie



Series: idol au [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bodyguard Shiro, Idol AU, M/M, allura is keith's makeup artist / fashion stylist, idol keith, keith is an idol, shiro is a disaster gay, shiro is keith's bodyguard, stylist allura
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 00:56:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15231843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltiie/pseuds/saltiie
Summary: Before he even knows what, he’s doing he’s finding himself mumbling words - possibly the dumbest thing he’s ever said to date - but Keith’s eyes are coercing words out of him and he’s a weak man.





	Threat eliminated

**Author's Note:**

> first fic in the fandom, but longtime lover of these boys. my friend and i came up with this au and she enabled me to start writing so here we are ! the first instalment. i hope everyone likes it and if there's any errors or anything let me know !

He blames Allura, because it must be her fault - because he’s spoken his heart and mind to her on multiple occasions - and maybe he should hold his tongue a little more, but that’s pretty much impossible. So, while it’s probably equally his fault, in this moment as the world spins and he feels himself fall like a tree that’s just been chopped, he finds himself cursing her.

  
He slams down onto the ground hard; solid muscle and strength going down far too easily than it really should have been. Some may claim he’s clumsy, and thus question his technique as a body guard, but he’s not. He really isn’t. He’s not clumsy just.... distracted. Horribly, terribly, wonderfully distracted.  
He feels his cheeks heat up, and he thanks the backstage isn’t overly bright, as the object of his distraction glances down at him questioningly. He’d simply missed one of the thousand and chords taped down to the ground, too busy being enamoured by the way sweat glints down lithe shoulder blades, navigating the positively sinful curve of a spine that turns into a slim waist. Before he gets any further with that train of thought - because he’s doing it again, he really needs to reign himself in - he’s met with a sharp face framed perfectly by dark, slightly damp, hair and eyes that are locked onto him with what he can clearly see as amusement. He’s even got that little quirk of a smile at the corner of his lips that just really ruins Shiro.

God, he’s so gay.

  
Before he even knows what, he’s doing he’s finding himself mumbling words - possibly the dumbest thing he’s ever said to date - but Keith’s eyes are coercing words out of him and he’s a weak man. He’s so weak.

  
“ I was just, uh.” And he’s scrambling to think of anything that isn’t possibly incriminating. Mind working a light year a second as his tongue trips over itself, the image of Keith in that backless lace shirt still absolutely destroying him. “The wires.” There’s a pause before he continues, clearing his throat as he does. “They....didn’t look.... right. So, I....” and he’s flailing, this is the worst lie, cover up - whatever ever. “...threat eliminated.” God let the floor swallow him up now.  
Then there’s movement beside him, and Keith is walking past, hand towel hanging across his shoulder and oh, the smile had grown into a smirk, and he just knows Keith doesn’t buy it for a second. Keith sees right through him and clearly, he has no regrets on just how much effect he has on him. “Right, that cord was definitely out to get me. That completely immobile cord. Thanks, Shiro.”

  
And just like that he’s stepping past him, hips swaying as he walks and Shiro can’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed as he stares because he’s already astronomically embarrassed himself, so really anything after this isn’t even a surprise. Probably.  
It’s another good minute of staring before he just slumps to the ground, let it all wash over him as his hands cup his face - ears red and groan muffled. God he’s just, so gay. Keith’s back, his long, long, legs still playing behind his eyelids and there’s really no doubt there - he’s got it bad. So bad he doesn’t even notice the small number of onlookers shooting him confused and concerned looks. Doesn’t even register their probably second-hand embarrassment. He wants to care, he really does but god, Keith’s looked great tonight.

  
He manages to pull himself off the ground, once he lets the gay thoughts catch up, the weighing voices of ‘you idiot’ fade away from his brain and, well, mostly because one of the stage managers told him he was in the way and really needed to move.

He thought he’d had himself reigned in or at least calmed down. Maybe he could pass as a normal, completely professional, individual. That is until he turned the door to Keith’s dressing room and slipped himself inside.He feels Keith’s stare before he sees it, but he watches with a quick glance at the mirror before them, allowing Shiro a gorgeous view of Keith illuminated. Even more he can see the way the mirror lights reflect in his eyes, mischievous and knowing, as he glances at him across the reflective surface.

  
Keith doesn’t need to speak and Shiro doesn’t need to ask, the way Keith holds himself - the words are written in his posture, in his eyes, and Shiro reads it like a well-loved book. He moves forward without another word, warm hands moving to settle on Keith’s shoulders. The content makes him exhale, soft but not soft enough for Keith to miss.

  
His eyes never stray from the mirror, watching Keith as Keith does the same in return. He maps out his face, the curve of his brow, the tilt of his lips, his bright eyes just as glued on Shiro as Shiro was him; neither wanted to miss a thing. Shiro feels as Keith relaxes against him, one arm held up to keep his dark locks from catching in the zip at the back of his shirt. Momentarily, Shiro’s eyes flutter to Keith’s neck, eyeing the zip before his fingers take over and he’s drawn back to Keith like a moth to a flame.

  
He watches as Keith’s eyes flutter, determined to stay open and watching. Shiro lets his hands run down, unzipping and then going further - further than he knows he should, but not nearly as far as he WANTS to. His thumbs trail down, tracing the valley of his spine as his fingers span out, framing and smoothing over warm, sweat speckled, skin. He watches Keith like a man starving, taking in every soft sigh, every bat of an eye or bite of his lip, consuming what little he can.  
He sighs, again, because his head is swimming with thoughts as his hands follow the natural curve of Keith’s body, trailing down to his waist where his thumbs and fingers rest, smoothing over the skin lightly. He leans down, keeping eye contact because he’s so incapable of looking away; Keith’s so gorgeous he couldn’t tear his eyes away even if he tried.

  
Warm breath flutters the small strands of hair against Keith’s nape and he feels the shiver and the hairs of his neck stand up on reflex. Watches as Keith’s eyes half close and his bottom lip disappears into his mouth before it’s reappearing again, slightly glistening and plump red, swollen no doubt from the amount of times he’s bitten it tonight. Shiro can’t help the soft groan that leaves his lips, because with so little Keith can have a devastating effect. He can’t even hold back as he lets his lips press against the nape of his neck, and the curve of his shoulder, his voice as pained as he feels because he wants for so much more than he’s doing right now. A glance at Keith, the look in his eye, he can see the longing is mirrored.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” It’s a statement, and it feels obvious to him because he knows Keith is already very aware of that. The little, breathy, chuckle that’s both amused and speaks of the fatigue that Keith would undoubtedly feel post performance only confirms that even further and it takes more strength that it should to pull his hands away, his throat tight as he puts some distance between them, enough to take the same hand towel he’d given Keith before and lets it smooth down Keith’s back, retracing the path Shiro’s hands had taken only moments before. He can full the same shudder under his hands, but this time as he glances up - longing permeating the air, making it hard to breathe, Keith isn’t looking back.


End file.
